


You've Got Time

by Rednikjow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Gen, Infection, Mentions of Suicide, Sam Keeps A Journal, Set during season 3, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rednikjow/pseuds/Rednikjow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing the Winchesters expected when they headed to Atlanta was to end up in the middle of a nationwide Croation infection. The brothers now find themselves trapped, pondering what to do as the infected roam the streets. Sam decides to keep a journal of the whole ordeal, finding a place to vent his stress about the infection, his brother and Dean's upcoming deadline with the Devil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September 3rd, Atlanta

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a challenge. I always write from Dean's POW and I rarely venture into the - for me - unknown territory of Sam Winchester's mind. But I was inspired, I wanted to be challenged. The idea that popped to my head when I saw lightthesparks wonderful piece of art was not suited for Dean centered story. It fit Sam, and I took that challenge, even if it was harder than I thought it would be. This is also one of the first times I have not written a story with a slash pairing in it, yet another unknown territory for me. I've had fun with this story, and I might plan on working on a sequel if the mood strikes me. I hope you all enjoy my very first Reverse Bang and drop the wonderful lightthesparks a compliment for her beautiful artwork by visiting this link - http://lightthesparks.livejournal.com/112518.html!
> 
> Also a special thanks to my wonderful friend Jamie who stepped in to proof-read my story at the last minute!

  
**_"The virus spread a lot faster than we had at first anticipated. We’ve been confronted with the Croatoan virus before – somehow we beat it – but with an infection on this grand of a scale there is only so much two people can do. Last outbreak was in a small, sleepy town and we saw how quickly it moved through the inhabitants there, but to see how swiftly this infection can move when it spreads in a closely populated area is beyond terrifying, yet somewhat intriguing._ **

**_We still aren’t sure from where the spread of the virus was – considering Dean and I didn’t catch news of this until it was already out of control – and it doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to track it down either. What we first thought was a singular case of Croatoan spread turned out to be a nationwide disaster.  Dean keeps talking about old Romero flicks, I wonder if he thinks this is a joke or simply trying to make the best out of a beyond shitty situation-“_ **

“Are you really going to write a fucking diary about this Sammy? Come on, thought you had better things to use your precious time on,” Dean snorts, leaning against the windowsill as he observes his younger brother.

Sam let his pen drop to the table with an exasperated sigh, long fingers running through his matted hair before he turned his attention to his brother, elbows resting on the back of his chair. “What else would you have me do? We are basically trapped in this room until the infected clear out of the parking lot. Besides,” he mutters, reaching once more for the pen. “We should document this – just in case  _someone_  makes it through this. We don’t know long this will last; they aren’t exactly immortal. They’re just… Enraged.”  
  
“So it’s  _28 Days Later_ we’re dealing with instead. Great. Just great. That doesn’t make it better Sam.”  
  
He sighed from exhaustion, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as Dean started to roam around in the apartment. His brother was restless; had been ever since this whole ordeal started. This hadn’t been how Dean had expected to spend his last year. Heck, his brother had probably expected to just bury himself in dead monsters and willing girls and wait for his hourglass to run out of sand. Instead he was stuck here; in a crummy hotel room with the little brother who he sold his soul to save from death and with a horde of infected citizens roaming the streets surrounding them.   
  
It had only been a few days before this infection had spread that Sam had become aware of Dean’s deal to save his life back at Cold Oak. Blows had been exchanged – Sam was fairly confident he’d nearly broken his brother’s nose – and bottles had been emptied. If you asked Dean he’d say they were back to normal. Sam, on the other hand, saw it differently. Guilt and anger was gnawing at him constantly. He remembered how Dean had felt when he found out what John had done to save him; he knew the guilt that had burdened his brother and how it had damn near drove him to the brink of madness. And yet, even though Dean knew the guilt of knowing someone else sacrificed their soul to save your life, he still didn’t hesitate to throw his own life away to save his little brother.   
  
As heroic and touching the deed might seem to others Sam was all but fuming with rage that his brother would do such a thing. Dean knew what hardship he had gone through after Jessica, how ready he’d been to throw the towel in the ring if it hadn’t been for the burning need to avenge Yellow Eyes’ victims, and yet Dean didn’t hesitate to throw his own life away to save him.   
  
But the worst thing was how unwilling Dean was to talk about it. His brother constantly brushed it off, hiding the fear that Sam knew he felt by a tough façade and bad jokes, spending as much time away from his little brother as possible fucking, drinking and eating as much calorie-packed food he could find. Dean had turned into a machine; he fucked, he killed, he ate and got shitfaced– there was room for little else. Sam had humored him in the beginning – had let Dean bring girls back to their motel room, dutifully sitting in the Impala while his older brother defiled their shared room with the conquest(s) of the night, and even eaten more cheeseburgers alongside his brother than he’d like to admit just to see Dean smile. But he could only put up with so much, especially when it became crystal clear to him that Dean wasn’t too keen on Sam’s attempts on actually getting him out of this hellish deal. Sam sighed, casting one last glimpse at his brother before he went back to writing; the scribbling of his pen accompanied by Dean’s pacing footsteps.

  
**_“We’ve managed to get in contact with Bobby – the phone lines aren’t completely dead yet, although finding a connection is getting increasingly more difficult. He’s safe back in Sioux Falls, at least for the time being, so Dean and I are going to attempt making our way back there. Getting out of the city might become a problem though. The streets are getting increasingly more swarmed with the infected and the bodies they leave behind. I fear that if we don’t get on the move soon Dean and I will have to leave the city on foot – something Dean isn’t too keen on. At least the Impala is safely stored away in the hotel’s garage; otherwise I’m certain Dean would have thrown the remainder of his life away trying to save that car._ **

**_I have yet to discuss the plan with Dean, but I think our best shot is travelling out of the city via rooftops – if possible. We’d stay clear of the infected on the streets – who we still aren’t sure how to avoid when walking amongst them (Dean’s theory of covering yourself in intestines didn’t work out) – and get a good overview on how grave the situation actually is. There is a gun store a few blocks away from our current location, so if the guns and weapons we currently have in the room aren’t enough we know where we can possibly go to stock up. Dean is still not keen on leaving – I think he’s waiting on an opportunity to get Baby out of the garage – but I fear that there will be no such opportunity. The infected are only growing in numbers, and there is still no cure for the virus as of this date. I hope Bobby has found a lead for us when we join up with him – or if we manage to join up with him._ **

**_There are four months and seven days till Dean’s deal runs out._ **

**_\- Sam Winchester.”_ **  



	2. September 6th, Atlanta

**_It seems as if the infection is only spreading through humans, not through animals. We’ve seen quite a few dogs wandering the streets below our room and out when we’ve been scouting and they seem perfectly fine, albeit a bit confused by the situation. The infected doesn’t seem to mind them; they generally leave them alone unless provoked. The pets are starving, some are showing signs of aggression and others have been seen following who I would presume are their owners._ **   
  
**_I’ve been wondering what the infected eat – or if they even feel hunger. When we see them chasing down a victim they seem blood thirsty, but they never devour their catch like you see in old zombie flicks. It seems as if they know that the purpose is to spread the disease, not to kill the people they hunt down._ **   
  
**_Even so, the piles of bodies in the streets are growing and I fear it will only get worse. It seems like the infection takes longer to spread depending on how severe the attack of the infected was – we’ve seen some who were attacked and left to turn die rather than transform, so even though the infected seem to just know what the purpose is they still maul some victims to the point where they are simply too weak to turn. Perhaps the infected know how to pick out the perfect candidates to be bearers of the virus?_ **   
  
**_Dean and I are talking about leaving Atlanta soon – it isn’t safe here, we want to seek out to less crowded areas. He’s getting restless too, eager to get out of this room and on the road again. I still need to convince him the Impala can’t come with us. I fear he will disown me._ **   
**_There are four months and four days till Dean’s deal runs out._ **

  
**_\- Sam Winchester._ **   


 


	3. September 8th, Atlanta (Somewhat)

**_Dean and I decided to leave Atlanta today. Or rather, we decided to do so yesterday, but with the sheer amount of infected that are currently roaming the streets it takes a lot longer to make our way safely out of the city. It took a while for Dean to come to terms with having to abandon the Impala by the hotel. Getting it out of the garage might have been easy enough, but given that the car is a classic it isn’t exactly the most silent of vehicles to travel in and that would definitely draw unwanted attention to us. How I convinced Dean that leaving it behind would be the best decision I have no clue, because Dean certainly hasn’t been valuing his own safety that highly as of late. Maybe he was just afraid of scratching the paintjob or potentially crashing it. He told me to come back and get it if this thing blows over at some point – something he is very pessimistic about will happen in his remaining lifespan. I may or may not have wanted to punch him in the face.”_**  
  
Sam looked up from his notebook when his brother caught his attention; seeing how Dean squinted to get a peek of the notebook and quickly shut it closed, slipping the slim book into his duffel bag. Even though this journal was intended for whoever found it in case this infection went sour it still didn’t mean Sam wanted Dean reading over his shoulder. Besides, it was nice to have a place to vent about his thoughts concerning Dean and the way his brother had been acting as of late, especially now that the phone lines had died so he couldn’t reach Bobby’s cell.  
  
“You see anything?” He asks, craning his neck to try and get a glimpse out of the window. They’d taken shelter in an abandoned house in the outskirts of Atlanta – complete with a white picket fence and all – to have a quiet place to figure out their next move. The street had been relatively empty of infected when they got here earlier that day and the few that had lingered they had been able to sneak past without rousing their attention.   
  
Dean raised his hand, signaling for Sam to be quiet as his eyes started to wander towards the ceiling, tracking along an invisible line. He shifted, silent on his feet as he slowly made his way towards the door to the  
entrance hall, fingers curling around the handle of a baseball bat that the former occupants of the house had left behind by the front door.   
  
Sam carefully pushed to a stand, wondering what had gotten his brother’s attention and followed his brother to the entrance hall, staring up at the barricaded stairwell that his brother was lingering by. It had went against their nature to not go upstairs to check if anyone – or rather, something – was still lurking there, but the family who’d lived here had blocked off the stairwell with a solid bookcase and what looked like a child’s bed, so they figured that either the family had made their mistake through a window from up there, blocked the stairwell to keep something up there out of the rest of the house or… Well, four infected – or the corpses of them.   
  
A low creaking echoed above them, grabbing the brother’s attention as the floorboard creaked once more, this time a little louder. The sounds were faint, not heavy enough to be that of an adult if you asked Sam, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any reason to worry. They had already seen children who had been infected with the virus, and if you asked Sam he found the children more dangerous than the adults. Children are fast; able to squeeze through tighter spaces and climb faster than the adults. Besides, killing a child was never easy – even if it came running at you with foam at the mouth.  
  
“Something’s up there,” Dean whispered, fingers tightening around the handle of his baseball bat, eyes narrowing as he judged the barricade that kept them separated from whatever was up there.   
  
“Maybe it’s just an animal that got in there,” he tried to reason, stopping himself from reaching out and physically hauling his brother from the makeshift barrier. Removing the barrier wouldn’t be a quiet task and the last thing Sam wanted was to have infected trying to run them down inside unfamiliar surroundings. They had been very lucky to not draw attention to themselves when they had arrived here in the first place, Sam did not want to press their luck any further than they already had. “Dean, we’re safe down there – we can’t get up there, whatever is up there can’t get down to us. Just leave it, please.”  
  
Dean stared at Sam for a long moment, defiance clear in his expression but he eventually let out a low huff, sliding past his younger brother to retreat to the living room again, taking a seat by the curtain-covered windows. Sam drew a quiet sigh of relief, sparing the barrier one last glance before he headed down the narrow hallway to slip inside the small bathroom. The door was left partially open, since there weren’t any electricity in the house, but the close quarters was just what Sam needed to get a few moment to himself. He rested his hands on the sink, head bowed as he breathed in deep, taking in a few blissful moments of privacy and silence before he’d join his brother in the living room once more. His gaze flicked briefly to the tap, reaching to twist at the handles but was only greeted by a spurt of foul-smelling and rotten water that quickly filled the sink.   
  
A loud thump followed by an even noisier bang coming from upstairs caught Sam’s attention. He cursed to himself, leaving the bathroom to inspect the stairwell in case whatever was causing such a ruckus was trying to make its way downstairs. The barricade was still intact, none of the furniture seemed to have been moved, so Sam instead went to check on his brother to make sure that he had in fact heard those noises.  
  
“Dean, did you-,” he blinks, seeing that his brother was no longer in the living room where he had left him. A quick stab of panic settled in his gut, another thump from upstairs drawing his attention to the ceiling. He curses, heading for the patio door and quickly stepped outside into the fenced-in garden, backing away from the house to get a look at the upstairs’ windows. Most were closed but there was one that had been pushed open right above the covered patio that was big enough for Dean to have squeezed his way through.   
  
He wanted to call for his brother to get him out of there, but the infected had proven to have a very keen sense of hearing and Sam did not want to rouse any attention from the infected on the streets or whatever was upstairs. Instead he moved to stand on the edge of the patio and jumped in place, hands grasping a solid hold of the edge of the patio roof to haul him up, grunting lowly as he pulled himself up onto the rough surface.   
His fingers touched the roof as he slowly made his way towards the open window, cautiously reaching inside to brush aside the swaying curtain. The room was dim, the cloud-covered sun providing little light for Sam to get a good look of the interior of the room but it didn’t seem like anything was moving. Judging by the looks of it he was staring into a hallway with three doors, two of which were blocked with low tables and dressers. He slowly climbed through the window, feet touching the carpet-covered floor just as he heard another thud, gaze quickly flicking to his left. His gaze landed on the unblocked door, right hand reaching back to grab a hold of the gun he’d stuffed in the back of his jeans, cautious as he slowly made his way towards the bedroom door.   
  
The noises on the opposite side of the door had died down, but that didn’t soothe Sam’s nerves. Adrenaline started pumping through his system as he slowly reached for the door handle, cautious as he gently put pressure on it. The door creaked open, causing the younger Winchester to wince silently, but when he looked inside the dimly lit room he saw that Dean was the only one in there, his back turned to the door.   
Well, at least his brother was the only one alive in there.  
  
“Holy…”  
  
“I thought I saw one of them move,” Dean said, voice a whisper as he stared at the family before him, stretched out on the large double bed. The parents were resting against the headboard while the two children huddled between their parents – all were holding hands, all dead. One of the children had a gruesome bludgeoning mark on his face, eye socket caved in where Dean’s baseball bat had made contact with his skull. His brother’s hand was shaking. Sam reached out to touch his forearm. “I was sure I saw him move, you know how they are, Sam.”  
  
“Dean, I-“  
  
“I wouldn’t have hit him if I hadn’t seen him move,” he explained, voice wavering as he kept staring at the family before him. Sam had figured that some people would choose to take their own lives if they found themselves in an impossible situation where they were looking down the barrel of a gun anyway. Heck, they had even taken a gun from a guy who had clearly chosen to shoot himself in an alleyway. But this was different. “Sam, they’re just’,”  
  
“I know Dean, I know. Come on, let’s go back downstairs. At least now we know that there isn’t anything of threat up here.” Sam tries to reason, his hold tightening on his brother’s arm as he manages to finally pull Dean away from the scene. He ushers the blonde towards the door, casting a glance over his shoulder before he closed the door behind them and saw a rat come scurrying out from beneath one of the corpses.   
  
It was late into the night when Sam picked up his journal again, casting a glance at his sleeping brother before he let his gaze wander to the covered-up windows, before he eased to a cautious stand. He walked on his toes through the narrow hallway to the small bathroom, slipping inside as he took a seat on the toilet lid before he fumbled for his lighter. With a quick flick the small room was bathed in a subtle but warm light; it was still quite dark, but Sam was able to make out the last few words he scribbled in the journal.   
  
 ** _“People who’ve died before being infected or exposed to the virus DO NOT TURN._**  
  
 ** _There are four months and two days till Dean’s deal runs out._**

  
**_\- Sam Winchester.”_ **   



	4. September 15th, Location Unknown

**_“The nature of the infected is changing. The first time we encountered it they still seemed intelligent; capable of communicating and thinking. But now they seem like their minds have started to severely deteriorate. The only communication that seems happen between the infected is screaming and yelling, the sound of it becoming more animalistic with each passing day. They seem to rely more on anger and strength than intelligence; jumping on the first non-infected thing they can find and chasing it until they catch it, lose it or are stopped._ **   
  
**_As far as cannibalism goes they aren’t eating the non-infected – at least it doesn’t seem so. They attack and maul the person they might catch, sometimes with fatal results, and other times they merely seem to wish to spread on the disease. My conclusion to this is that the virus has integrated some sort of instinct within the infected. If their nature was simply to kill, then there wouldn’t be such a vast spread of infected as there currently are. Therefore they must have a greater desire to spread the virus rather than simply kill their way through the population. The dominating group of infected seem to be young and capable humans; the ones to succumb to the attacks are usually the elderly, disabled and young children. So far it doesn’t seem like the infected have the urge to attack other infected, but how they distinguish non-infected from infected is still a mystery to us. Perhaps it’s a scent? Maybe the virus alters the way you view other living beings? Hopefully Bobby will have found more information when we finally get to him._ **   
  
**_Thankfully they aren’t that difficult to kill; you can immobilize them with a shot to each kneecap, slowing them down. Fatality can be achieved by a headshot or a shot to the hard. Dean has ever so intelligently pointed out that they aren’t quite like zombies, even though he’s starting to refer to himself as “Sheriff Grimes” and me as “Lori”. I have no idea what he’s getting at, but as long as he’s amused I suppose I’ll humor him. At least he quit calling me Scully._ **   
  
**_There are three months and 25 days till Dean’s deal runs out._ **

  
**_\- Sam Winchester.”_ **   



	5. September 18th, Location Unknown, Supermarket

**_ _ **

**_"Dean and I have so far been travelling on foot – it’s safer than travelling in a car, even if it’s taking a lot longer than it should have to get to Bobby’s – and we’ve not encountered any un-infected so far. We’ve made a point in searching through the houses we pass – or at least looking in through the windows – and so far all we’ve seen is empty houses, or houses with corpses. It seems like suicide is a more common option in this scenario than we had at first anticipated. Dean is still shaken up about the first incident we encountered back at the house outside of Atlanta. He doesn’t want to admit that it got to him, but I can tell that is definitely bothering him more than he should. What he did happened on instinct and they were already dead, he didn’t harm a living thing. I guess it’s knowing that you tried to smash an innocent person’s head in, to put it bluntly. Dean blames himself for a lot lately – I’m keeping a close eye on him, just in case, since he’s been known to make idiotic and erratic decisions. Like resurrecting his little brother._**  
  
 ** _There are three months and 28 days till Dean’s deal runs out._**  
  
 ** _\- Sam Winchester.”_**  
  
Sam’s lips drew into a thin, straight line as he studied the page before him, sighing lowly to himself before he slipped the pen into the spiral spine of the journal for safe keeping. He tugged the journal into his bag before he swung it over his shoulder, easing to a stand as he headed towards Dean; whose face still glued to the windows of the supermarket they had reached.  
  
“Have you seen anything in there yet?” Sam asks, voice soft as he steps in close to his brother, trying to get a glimpse into the store’s vast room. The parking lot was surprisingly empty when they got here. There were only a handful of infected – which didn’t take long for them to clear out – and there were little to no signs of survivors. “I suppose people didn’t think to hole up in a supermarket, maybe they came here for supplies?”  
  
“People watched  _Dawn of the Dead_  and took note, Sammy. But yeah, stocked up and left. It would explain the lack of cars and the few creepers.” He mumbled, face all but pressed to the glass.   
  
The two brothers stood in silence for a long while, both unsure what their next move should be. Going in there to look for possible supplies wouldn’t be a stupid idea. They had stocked up as they’d been travelling, but since they were hoping to score one of the cars in the parking lot – if any of them would still run, most of them were in terrible condition – it wouldn’t be a bad idea to load up as much as they could carry with them. There was no way of knowing how much Bobby had in his home, although knowing him he probably had a bomb shelter filled with spam and whiskey, so bringing a load of goods with them wouldn’t be a terrible idea. On the other hand they weren’t sure if there was anything in there that might jump on them. Sure, the front of the store looked fine and perfectly safe, but the shelving units were tall and the aisles long, there might be lurkers in the very back.  
  
“We should go in,” Dean suddenly said, taking a step away from the window to look at his younger brother, brow perked in question. “You should stay out here, maybe try and get one of the cars running. In the mean time I can go in and scout the place, see if there’s anything worth taking with us.”  
  
“You want us to split up?” Sam asked, voice flat as he stared down at his older brother, clearly not agreeing with his plan. “This isn’t Scooby Doo, Dean. I’m not letting you go in there on your own, especially not since we don’t know what might be in there. If you go in there I’m coming with you, someone needs to be able to cover your back. Besides, if something happens and I hear you yelling it’ll take me longer to get to you if I’m stuck out here hot wiring a car.”   
  
Dean pursed his lips, studying Sam’s increasingly bitchy expression before he finally caved in, hands raised in defeat. He reached for his own duffel bag and rummaged around in it, drawing out the baseball bat he had brought with him from the suburb house and weighed it in his right hand, left hand grasping a flashlight. “Alright then Sammy. Remember, stick to melee if possible, don’t fire shots at them – might attract more. Let’s go get some twinkies.”  
  
Sam nodded once, following his brother closely as they stepped up the market’s large glass doors, carefully pushing past them to step inside the dimly lit shop. They slipped a shopping basket in between the two doors to keep them open in case they had to make a quick escape, silent as they listened for any potential movement inside. It was quiet as the grave, the only noises reaching them that of slow drips from the far end of the shop. The power had been shut down a while back, the freezers were starting to thaw, food rotting on the shelves. Sam wrinkled his nose at the smell of rotting fruit and meat, the stench so pungent that it quickly reached his nose.  
  
Dean signaled for him to take one aisle while he took the one next to it, quickly slipping past the tall shelves before Sam could even think about disagreeing with him. He frowned, brows knitted as he stepped into the cluttered aisles, trying to refrain from using the flashlight just yet. The daylight from outside still reached far enough into the store, but the farther Sam went down the aisles the darker it became, leaving the hunter on edge and tense. His eyes scanned the floor, carefully stepping around tossed products as to not make unnecessary noise, senses alert at the slightest sound and movement.   
  
He could faintly hear Dean on the opposite side of the shelves, walking slightly ahead of him, more careless with where he put his foot than Sam was. A faint shuffling noise was heard, drawing his attention but Sam credited it to Dean picking something up for keeping. Most of the stuff Sam had passed by was inedible, mostly due to rot, but he knew that the store must have an aisle specifically for canned goods – hopefully whoever had been here first hadn’t thought about clearing that out.   
  
Sam reached the end of the first aisle, looking from side to side to see if there was anyone – or anything – waiting in the middle aisle but found it blissfully empty. And dark, so very dark. He hesitantly reached for his flashlight, putting the hammer he had scavenged earlier aside on a shelf to adjust the intensity of the flashlight’s light beam before he turned it on, bathing the floor in front of him in a subtle yellow glow.   
  
The next aisle was more promising than the first. Even though the shelves weren’t nowhere near fully stocked there were plenty of cans left, everything from spam to canned clementines and peaches. He stopped by the shelves and slipped his bag off of his shoulders, carefully zipping it open to start filling it with cans, trying his best to not cause them to rattle. Sam’s flashlight lay on the shelf, casting a cone of light back towards the way he had come from, hammer resting next to it for easy and quick access in case something snuck up on him. He heard footsteps in the other aisles, the quiet shifting of cans as well. It seemed like Dean had found something useful as well. As soon as his bag was filled – or the shelves had been empty – Sam was more than ready to pack up shop and get out of here.   
  
A weird shuffle caught his attention, movements stilling as he slowly turned his head to the right. From the darkness an infected emerged, growling fiercely as it all but hurled itself at Sam, foam dripping from the mouth. Sam tumbled to the ground with his assailant on top of him, forearm pressing against its throat to keep it at bay, head turning as to not get any of the froth close to his mouth. He heard quick footsteps from the other aisle, things being knocked over. The next thing he knew an ear piercing gunshot echoed through the room, blood splattering over his face as the infected was shot in the head, brain matter oozing out through the large hole in its skull. Sam hurriedly pushed it aside, scrambling to his feet and immediately reached for his filled bag, looking to Dean.  
  
“We have to move, now.” His brother growled as they heard other things come to life in the store, slow footsteps getting increasingly faster. Sam grabbed his flashlight and hammer from the shelf before the brothers sprinted out of the store, refusing to look behind him. The footsteps were fast, growls and animalistic yelling sounding from behind them when they finally reached the door, quickly getting outside and shutting the doors behind them. They reached for the vending machine by the door and roughly tipped it over, blocking the doors to keep them closed. The infected slammed themselves against the thick glass, froth and blood smearing against it as they tried to bite the brothers through the glass, eyes glassy yet full of wrath.  
  
“You OK, Sammy?” Dean asks, grasp strong as he physically hauled Sam away from the store, eyes trained on his younger brother to check for injuries. The tall brunette was soaked in blood, face already sticky and his shirt was completely ruined, but it seemed as if Sam was fine – all things considered. “And here I thought you needed a shower before we went in there.”  
  
“Shut up, jerk.” He grumbles angrily, reaching into his bag to pull out one of his dirty flannels, using it to wipe his face somewhat clean of blood and gunk. God, what he wouldn’t give for a proper shower right now. Sam spat on the pavement, tossing his ruined flannel aside and looked expectantly at his older brother, seeing that Dean was already busy inspecting one of the cars in the parking lot. He sighed, sitting back on his heels and drew his shirt over his head, tossing it aside after he’d found a clean one in his bag and quickly pulled it over his head, sliding the sleeves down to cover his arms from the wind. Thank God his t-shirt hadn’t been completely ruined.  
  
A low rumbling caught his attention, the noise quickly turning into a coughing growl as his brother managed to bring an old car to life. The blonde emerged from it with a grin on his face, eyes bright with amusement as he wiggled his brows at his younger brother.   
  
“You ready to go, bitch?”  
  
Sam smiled to himself, rolling his eyes at his brother before he pulled the door to the passenger seat open, slipping inside the old beat-up car.


	6. September 20th, Sioux Falls, Bobby's Place

**_"Dean and I reached Bobby’s place today._**  
  
 ** _It seems like the old man has been lucky, there were no infected in the close proximity of his property – but then again, he does live like a complete hermit. He had made a trip into town to get a look of how widely it had spread there and told us that more or less the entire town had been empty by the time he got there – whether or not they had been evacuated by the military or had perished otherwise he wasn’t sure, but he did report seeing bodies in the streets. There were few infected; only a handful and he had managed to completely avoid them while he had been there. He made the trip there three days after Dean and I made note of the infection in Atlanta and hasn’t returned to the town since. Dean and I are discussing whether or not we should go there tomorrow to search for supplies or survivors._**  
  
 ** _Bobby still isn’t sure what caused the spread of the virus and gaining information isn’t easy. The phone lines are dead, the radios are almost useless and the demons he had tried summoning were either oblivious to what the source was or unwilling to spit out the truth. Bottom line; we’ve not exactly gained any new knowledge since we came here, but it is nice to have a solid home base where we can feel safe – at least for the time being.”_**  
  
Sam dropped his pen in between the two pages he had been working on before he closed up the journal, sliding it underneath the pillow so curious eyes would find it. It wasn’t exactly a secret that his brother was getting increasingly more determined on getting his hands on the journal – Sam figured that his brother would have realized by now that it wasn’t just scientific things he was jotting down in here – but Sam was set on keeping the journal to himself, even if Dean kept commenting about how he was acting like a teenage girl hiding her diary from her parents. With everything going on around them Sam didn’t feel like it was right to vent to Bobby about his concerns and fears. The old man had enough on his plate already and he didn’t want to trouble him more than he absolutely had to.   
  
He sighed, reaching up to rub the heels of his palms against his eyes, grunting lowly as he eased himself to a stand. It was starting to get late and Sam was more than keen on getting into a familiar bed for a proper sleep. Even though the two brothers had been lucky when it came to finding shelter he had never really felt safe out there. They were constantly in unfamiliar surroundings, always having to be on high alert. Besides, they never had the Impala with them. Even when they had been travelling to the farthest corners of the country they had always had that car with them –always had that one safe haven to return to. Even though it was noisy and impractical, especially when you were above average height and wanted to sleep in that thing, he missed it. He missed home. At least Bobby’s place was able to soothe the ache for a home at the time being, and the fact that there was a second pair of eyes here to keep an eye on Dean lifted a lot of stress from his shoulders.  
  
He made his way downstairs to check on the others, finding Dean asleep on the couch in the study with his right arm thrown over his head, snoring loudly. Sam smiled to himself, stepping over to his older brother to carefully remove his arm from his face – knowing very well that Dean would curse up a storm if he woke up with an arm that was numb from bad blood circulation – and reached to draw a blanket over him. There was a bed ready for Dean upstairs, but since Sam knew just how restless and uneasy his brother had been lately he didn’t have the heart to wake him when he finally saw a peaceful expression on his face.   
  
Instead he headed for the kitchen, blinking once when he saw that Bobby was still up and slumped over the dining table, nose deep in another book.  
  
“You find anything new?” Sam asked voice soft as he quietly slid the door closed behind him so they wouldn’t disturb Dean’s slumber.   
  
“Nah, I feel like I’ve been through all these books so many times now. I know there ain’t no new information in ‘em, but I feel like I still gotta look. Might have missed something.” The old hunter mutters, words spoken into his palm as he flips another page. “Dean still conked out on the couch?”  
  
“Yeah, I figured we could just let him sleep through the night there. He’s going to complain in the morning, but I know he’ll be even more annoyed with me if I woke him up now.” Sam reasons, walking to the unpowered fridge to reach inside for a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap. “Besides, it’s the first time I’ve seen him that peaceful since before all of this happened.”  
  
Bobby nodded, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he turned to look at the younger Winchester, eyes squinting when he made eye contact with the tall boy. “Are you feeling alright Sam?”  
  
Sam blinked slowly, swallowing the mouthful of water he’d just drank and nodded his head, screwing the lid back on the water bottle. “Yeah, I feel perfectly fine. Well, besides the lack of the modern lifestyle and the fact that there’s probably more infected than non-infected running around out there then yeah, I’m fine.”  
  
The old man’s gaze was skeptic, eyes narrowed as he studied the younger man from across the table. An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of them. Sam was getting increasingly more uneasy the longer Bobby stared at him and it seemed as if the older hunter only got more suspicious the longer he looked at him.  
  
“Your eyes are a little red Sam; maybe you should get some sleep.” He finally suggests, attention finally turning back to the book he’d laid out in front of him, right hand reaching for the shot of whiskey he’d poured himself earlier.  
  
“It’s probably just because I’m tired, I-,” Sam starts, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he considered his options. Telling Bobby his worries about Dean would definitely lift a heavy burden off of his chest and allow him to share his thoughts with someone else than a thin notebook. But on the other hand he knew what kind of pressure Bobby was under. He had his own shit to deal with. He shook his head, placing the bottle back in the fridge. “I’ve just not been sleeping well lately, getting into a familiar bed will be nice.”  
  
“Good, now get up there with you. If Dean wakes up I’ll send him up there too, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be conscious until breakfast is ready.”  
  
Sam offered Bobby a tired smile before he left him to his work, walking past his brother in the living room and spared him one last glance before he headed upstairs again. He stopped by the small hallway bathroom, stepping inside and reached to flick on the lights – Bobby was and always will be a man who prepares for every possible situation, so it didn’t really come as a surprise to them when they found that Bobby had his own generator running to provide power – and stepped up to the sink. His eyes met his reflection’s, seeing the faint red hue that rimmed the whites of his eyes, giving him a tired look. He reached up to touch his face, gentle as he drew a finger along the dark circles underneath his eyes.   
  
When Sam finally returned back to bed he slipped underneath the covers and reached beneath the pillow, once more drawing out the slim notebook and his pen. He flipped it open, staring hesitantly down at the page for a long while before he scribbled the last few sentences. With a weary sigh he turned to blow out the bedside candle, bathing the room in darkness.   
  
 ** _There are three months and 20 days till Dean’s deal runs out._**  
  
 ** _It has been two days since I was infected._**  
  
 ** _\- Sam Winchester.”_**


End file.
